Chapter 219: A Gift of Pure Gold
Charles presented his half-true "Naval Maneuver Warfare" theory to Tijani with two main goals:
First, to lure Welles into a partnership with Brest Shipyard.
Second, to leverage Welles' resources for developing advanced torpedoes.
The current torpedoes were primitive; even if dropped from planes, their accuracy was so poor that effective targeting was nearly impossible. Improving them was an urgent need. Charles was confident that he could accomplish this.
This confidence wasn't just because of Tijani's apparent awe when he left, but because Charles' theory about "Naval Maneuver Warfare" was about seventy percent true and thirty percent misleading:
Destroyers truly would become a dominant force in future naval operations.It was true that torpedoes would one day have longer range than naval artillery.And, to some extent, maneuver warfare at sea was also viable.
The issue, however, lay in the fact that once aircraft carriers entered the scene, naval battles shifted to air dominance. No matter how fast a destroyer was, it couldn't outrun aircraft, and maneuver warfare centered on destroyers would become obsolete.
But for now, in a world where the navy hadn't yet grasped the potential of aircraft carriers, this theory held.
After Tijani left, Camille curiously opened the gift Tijani had left behind. With delight, she exclaimed, "A sailing ship! It's beautiful. We really needed something decorative like this!"
With that, she placed the model ship on the living room table, though she muttered, "It seems heavy, at least four or five pounds!"
Charles glanced at it—a three-tiered warship bristling with cannons, some being loaded, others being aimed, with sailors and musketeers bustling about on deck, preparing for battle. And, most notably, the ship gleamed in pure gold.
Sensing something, Charles advised his mother, "Mom, maybe it's best not to leave it there."
"Why not?" Camille didn't turn around, her eyes fixed on the ship as she stepped back to admire it from a distance. "I think it looks perfect here. It matches our living room so well!"
Charles rolled his eyes, casting a glance at the room's modest furnishings.
Deyoka noticed Charles' expression and, intrigued, stepped forward to examine the ship. As he lifted it, he exclaimed, "My God, it's… it's solid gold!"
Camille looked at him skeptically before laughing. "You must be joking! Who would give a pure gold gift that weighs four or five pounds…"
But seeing Deyoka's serious expression, Camille hesitantly asked, "Are you sure it's real gold?"
Deyoka nodded. Having come from a business background, he knew enough to judge its worth.
"It's likely worth sixty or seventy thousand francs!" he estimated, examining the model ship. "That's just the gold's value, not counting its artistic craftsmanship. It's probably worth even more than that!"
Camille gasped, turning to Charles. "We should return this to the general, Charles. We can't accept such an extravagant gift."
"No need to worry, Mom," Charles replied calmly. "To him, it's just a trinket. He wouldn't care."
"A trinket? Sixty or seventy thousand francs is a 'trinket'?" Camille stared at Charles in disbelief.
Deyoka, picking up on Charles' tone, asked, "This general—he's not an ordinary officer, is he?"
"Of course not," Charles replied. "He's Welles' son. His only son."
Camille and Deyoka exchanged stunned looks. The visitor who had just left was Welles' son?
In Paris' 15th arrondissement, by the Seine, the bells of a distant church tolled. It was ten-thirty in the morning.
Inside a five-story building overlooking the river, Welles sat by the window, as usual, in his dressing gown, enjoying the cold breeze as he watched boats pass on the Seine, and snowflakes drift down, disappearing as they met the river's surface.
He found something fascinating about ships. Onboard, there was life; off it, only death, with the constant potential for danger. Survival required preparation and anticipation of every possible outcome.
But today, he found himself unable to concentrate. Though his eyes were on the river, his mind was on Tijani's meeting with Charles.
What would the outcome be?
Would he feel surprise or disappointment?
Probably, there would be no breakthrough, he mused. After all, it was the navy. Naval warfare was about tonnage and artillery; if the entire French Navy couldn't solve these problems, what could a young Charles possibly suggest?
Surely, he would opt for battleships. Who could resist the allure of powerful cannons and thick armor, especially a young army major fascinated by warfare?
Welles couldn't help but think he was being foolish, putting so much hope in a seventeen-year-old.
Footsteps sounded on the staircase. Welles knew it was Tijani returning.
Since Welles was already convinced that Charles would find no solutions, he didn't even look away from the Seine's distant horizon.
"Father!" Tijani entered cautiously, gently closing the door behind him as he approached Welles' side.
Wearing his military uniform, he looked alert and energetic, though Welles couldn't help but think the attire would be better suited to the navy.
Welles merely nodded, motioning for Tijani to sit nearby. Without turning, he asked, "So, how did it go?"
"I'm not sure," Tijani replied. "I think you'll have to judge for yourself."
When it came to these matters, Welles was the true authority. Tijani knew he had relinquished his place in the navy and thus lacked the qualifications.
Welles rose and poured himself a glass of wine from the cabinet.
He poured only one glass, not intending to share with Tijani; he felt their relationship hadn't yet mended to that point.
"What did he decide on?" Welles asked without turning.
"He didn't choose anything," Tijani replied.
Welles turned, puzzled. "Nothing? Did he give up?"
"No, Father," Tijani replied. "He chose the torpedo boat destroyer, which he called the 'third faction.'"
Welles paused, intrigued. "The torpedo boat destroyer? Interesting. What was his reasoning?"
Sipping his wine, Welles seemed to be mulling over Charles' intent.
"He called it 'naval maneuver warfare,'" Tijani explained simply. "He believes that torpedo boats can secure the coastline, while torpedo boat destroyers can venture out to engage enemy fleets. As long as our ships are fast enough, they would be unstoppable."
Welles froze, wine glass halfway to his mouth. In a cold tone, he asked, "Anything else?"
"So, we should invest in torpedo boat destroyers," Tijani continued. "He suggests increasing their firepower and armor while maintaining speed, so they could eliminate enemy destroyers rather than being bogged down by them."
Tijani added thoughtfully, "And the key lies in the torpedoes. If their range and accuracy could be improved, destroyers might be able to sink battleships from outside their range."
Welles remained silent, contemplating.
After a moment, he quietly picked up another glass, poured wine into it, and handed it to Tijani.
(End of chapter)
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